Steele Dating
by RJ Harrington
Summary: Can Laura and Remington keep their promise not to mix business with pleasure? A hunky new mayor and a villian from their past test the limits of our dynamic duo.
1. Chapter 1

_This story takes place after Steele At It in S3 when RS and LH made their agreement not to mix business with pleasure. It picks up on their return from France._

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 1

By R.J. Harrington,

Remington watched with disdain as the image flashed across the television screen. He clutched the faux fur in his hand, tightening the grip with every mention of their names. Having his fill of Ch. 11 news, he clicked the TV and tossed the remote onto the couch. He stomped to the kitchen and clanged two wine glasses from the rack.

"Remy, are you OK?"

"Am I what? Oh, yes, fine. What do you say to a smooth Beaujolais and my best smoked salmon with crème fraiche sauce?"

"Sounds wonderful."

With his lips still pressed tightly together in frustration, Remington plunged the opener into the cork and mumbled under his breath. He pinched his finger with a twist. "Damn these blasted contraptions!"

"If you want, we can do this another time."

"No, tonight is perfect." He shifted to a low resentful tone. "If she's not going to sit around and wait, then why should I? He's an absolute prat."

"Who are you talking about Remy?"

"Huh, oh, nothing…no one. Maybe you're right. I'm not feeling well after all," he said as he pulled his collar together with one hand and made a raspy cough. "In the interest of health, I think it best we postpone our evening. Another time, eh?"

Remington held Vanessa's faux fox coat as she slid her arms into the sleeves. He pushed it onto her shoulders and walked her to the door of his condo. Vanessa's deep neckline left little to the imagination, and didn't escape Remington's glare. Her dark hair curled around her shoulders in waves and framed her striking jaw. She had grown up on a Kansas farm, but since moving to L.A. to join a corporate law firm out of Stanford, she'd become quite connected, something Remington surmised would suit him, and the agency, well.

"Fred can take you home tonight, love. I don't want to risk sickness any more than I already have."

"Well, I hope you feel better Remy. Goodnight." She leaned to kiss him. The touch held less passion than previous encounters. Something was definitely amiss.

Remington closed the door and returned to the couch where he slouched into the corner and rested his feet on the table. He pulled a pillow against his chest and flipped on the news, turning to a different channel.

_"…And we'll have the latest on Brock Bradford's campaign and L.A.'s new interest in his private life. Does bachelor Brock have a new girlfriend? That's all coming up next on News Channel 4."_

"That's all coming up next," Remington mocked.

"What kind of name is Brock, anyway? Surely, she can do better."

_Good lord ol' chap what has she done to you? You're jealous._

Remington pushed from the couch and headed for the kitchen. He pulled fraiche, lemons and a handful of ingredients from the refrigerator and tiny toasts from the pantry.

_Maybe Daniel was right; you are positively domesticated._

He piled sliced salmon onto the toasts and dripped cream across its folds. He balanced the platter and red wine in one hand and flipped the light with the other. He set the salmon on the living room table and fell onto the couch. After finishing what he could of his meal, Remington leaned against the cushions and locked his hands behind his head. Thoughts of Laura betrayed him as he struggled to focus.

"I need to put a halt to this once and for all."

Remington slid to the edge of the couch and lifted the receiver. He dialed and sat back, rubbing his hand over his mouth and through his hair.

"Hi, Vanessa? It's Remington. My apologies for my behavior earlier this evening. Perhaps we can take another stab at it? … Wonderful. I'm on my way."

**********

Brock Bradford stepped from the rear door of his government-issued black Cadillac and popped open the umbrella. Laura squeezed under the edge, sliding her hand between his arm and side to avoid the large drops that plunked against the pavement. She never was much for politics, but the lavish state dinners, campaign fundraisers and paparazzi had made for an exciting two weeks.

The two ducked into the side door of Matzo's Italian Eatery and followed the Maître D to Brock's "usual table."

After removing her wrap, they slid into the corner booth.

"You look lovely tonight, Laura."

"Thank you," she said with a sly smile.

"No, thank _you_. Anyone who can put up with the rags from the 43rd precinct gets my vote for Woman of the Year. Are you sure you never dipped into politics?"

"No," she laughed, "Just a lot of practice making people believe in something that's not there."

"Sounds interesting," he smiled.

As Brock sipped his white wine and ordered their meals, Laura watched his lips, the way he talked with his hands and his perfect white smile. He was a lovely man, ruggedly handsome with hazel eyes and sandy blonde hair. She'd agreed to their first date out of pity, really, when he found himself alone at the head table as the high-society types cleared the ballroom. She'd attended the gala with a potential client, who wanted to hire Remington Steele Investigations to look into the questionable practices of his business partner.

When the waiter left, Brock turned and slid his hand under hers.

"This has been the best two weeks of the campaign so far, and it's not because I now have an eight-point lead."

"It _has_ been fun," Laura replied, uncommitted to his true meaning.

Unlike other men she'd dated in the last few years -- who were few and far between -- Brock didn't pressure or repeat his advance. Laura appreciated the leeway and closed her hand around his.

"You know there's a Help the Whales event coming up that I'm attending. You are welcome to come along."

"I don't want to get in the way," Laura said as she lowered her eyes, "but it may be good for the agency. That is if you don't mind me mixing business with pleasure."

She couldn't believe she said it. Thank goodness he didn't understand the meaning.

"No problem. I'll make sure to have two tickets delivered to your office so you can bring Mr. Steele along as well."

"Thank you."

They finished their meal and dressed to leave.

"Laura, don't take this the wrong way, but you live on the other side of town, which is at least an hour's drive in this downpour, and I have to be at Ch. 11 in five hours for an interview. Would you mind staying in my guest room tonight and Michael can drop you off at your car in the morning?"

Laura's gut said absolutely not, but her heart felt the genuine request and agreed.

The next morning, Laura called Remington from the Cadillac as they headed for Century City.

"Good morning, Mr. Steele."

"Laura, you know I'm not good with mornings. Is a conversation at this hour truly necessary?"

"Mr. Steele, the whales need you. Pick me up in an hour."

After Michael dropped her at the Century Towers, Laura hopped in the Rabbit and drove home in the same outfit as the day before, switching the radio station to her favorite morning show. After parking the Rabbit on the side of the building, she got out and headed around the corner. She swung her arms like a school girl and floated up the stairs where she was met by a mime. After a kiss and a bow, she unlocked her loft and found an unexpected visitor.

To Be Continued

BONUS: Here's the link for the Salmon recipe!! .?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=524111


	2. Chapter 2

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 2

By R.J. Harrington,

After identifying her intruder as Cecil Cosgrove and surprising Mr. Dixon and his crony at her loft, Remington and Laura regrouped at the office to get the latest data on the case from Mildred.

They discussed the plan for the night's clandestine rendezvous and headed out for their adventure through Remington's office door.

"Oh, hold on," Laura remembered. "I've got to make a quick phone call."

Remington called for Fred as he and Mildred watched Laura retreat into her office and close the door.

"Brock Bradford, please. Laura Holt calling."

"Yes, Miss Holt, one moment."

"Laura, hi. Are you alright? I hadn't heard from you since you mentioned finding a strange man in your loft, and when I read about the fire in your building I was concerned."

"I'm just fine, thanks. That's why I'm calling actually. We have a case to pursue tonight, so I'm afraid I can't make our date. But, tomorrow, after I do a little clean-up at my loft in the morning, what do you say to a nice day outdoors?"

"You don't have to ask twice, Laura. Take care of what you need and I'll pick you up around 1?"

"Perfect. And thank you for being so understanding."

"Laura, I'm a politician. Trust me; you will be putting up with far more from me than I will from you. See you tomorrow."

Laura hung up the telephone and grinned uncontrollably. She bit her lip to reign in her excitement. She grabbed her purse and headed out the door with the rest of Remington Steele Investigations to prepare for her stint as a homeless cat burglar.

"Why the grin, Miss Holt?" Mildred asked.

"Oh, nothing Mildred," she looked at Remington, "just adjusting some plans. Now let's go turn you into a bag lady!"

Laura wrapped her arm around Mildred's shoulder and walked ahead of their boss. Remington looked at her office door, then back at Laura as she and Mildred left the office and strolled down the hallway. Controlling his jealousy was clearly going to be a problem. He pressed his lips into a frown and followed suit.

****************

The next day, the trio spent hours piling bricks, sweeping dust, returning Laura's loft to near normalcy. Just as they pushed the last debris into a pile, Remington and Mildred heard a knock at Laura's door.

"I'll get it," Remington strode to the heavy door and pulled it open.

He glanced up at the man who stood two inches taller, and down again at the picnic basket he held in his hand.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Steele." Brock held out his hand, forcing Remington to respond. "Is Miss Holt in?"

Laura peeked around the corner of her closet and saw Remington shaking the hand of her date. _Oh boy. Is it 1 already? _she thought witha deep sigh. She leaned her head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds of contemplation before bounding down the stairs to the door with a breezy smile that attempted to mask the awkwardness of the moment.

"I see you've met Mr. Steele."

"Yes I did, finally. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to meet you at the whale benefit. We had an unfavorable media story getting ready to break, so duty called."

Remington shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Laura with palpable pain in his eyes.

"And, this is Mildred Krebs, our detective in training."

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Krebs."

"The pleasure is all mine," Mildred said with a wink.

"Everyone, this is Brock Bradford."

Remington left the doorway with his hands still in his pockets and headed for the kitchen. He wasn't sure what he was planning to do there, but anything was better than standing in humiliation while Laura flaunted her newfound pastime.

"Um, Brock, can you give me a minute. I'll be downstairs as soon as I grab a few things."

As Brock slipped through the stairway door, Laura retreated to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter facing Remington as he poured a drink.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm avoiding the uncomfortable position of village idiot."

"You're jealous!"

"Absolutely not, Laura. But, I'm not going to stand there while you flaunt Prince Charming as if nothing is happening."

"Nothing happening? Since when is it a problem if something is happening? I don't see you worrying about _my_ feelings when you prance around Los Angeles with Vanessa what's her face."

"Vanessa Auremar."

"Uh!" Laura grunted and headed for the door.

"Lau-ra ….. Laura, wait!"

Just as Remington reached the door, Laura slid it shut.

Remington turned, tilted his chin to the floor and sighed.

"I don't think that's gonna work boss," Mildred offered from the dinning table.

"Thank you, Mildred," he said sarcastically.

"I don't know exactly what's going on with you and Miss Holt, but I think she likes you more than you know."

"Well, perhaps her intentions have been cruelly misinterpreted, Mildred."

"All I know is she has been spending an awful lot of time with this Bradford character, and if I were you, I would make sure she knew how you felt."

Remington began to pace, mumbling as he went. He plopped on Laura's couch and flipped on the television.

_"Coming up at 5, the latest on the early release of Eldon Vekmer and the scramble by the district attorney's office to get him back behind bars." _

"Vekmer. Vekmer. Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"Boss, that's the scum bag who blew up Miss Holt's house!"

"Laura."

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 3

By R.J. Harrington,

The black Cadillac, which had drawn a few stares as it wound around the 10 miles from Altadena to the picnic area, pulled into the spot closest to the hiking trail and parked.

"This is where we get off," Brock smiled as he instructed the driver to open the trunk. He slid out of the car and handed Laura her tote before grabbing his black leather bag.

"We can change in here, if you don't mind a few troopers standing guard outside."

"What's up with the highway patrol? I didn't think a state escort was customary for mayoral candidates."

"It's just a precaution. My opponent received a death threat yesterday and they thought it only prudent to offer me the same protection. I don't think they'll get in the way of our plans."

"And, just when are you going to tell me what our plans entail?" Laura teased.

Brock flashed his white smile and winked. He closed the trunk and headed to the men's dressing area with troopers in tow. "Make sure you wear your swimming suit!" He yelled as he disappeared around the corner of the stone building.

Laura waved, then looked in her bag. _My swimming suit._ It had been a while since she'd worn her two-piece red bathing suit and she hoped it would be the last time this summer. She threw on the suit, a tank top and short shorts, then headed outside.

The two emerged from opposite sides of the building at the same time, catching Brock off guard.

"Wow, don't you look fantastic."

Laura blushed.

After hiking along a trail of blackberry bushes full of plump fruit and lined with towering pines, Brock pointed to an open area at the top of Switzer Falls. They laid a large plaid blanket across the grass and began to dig into the picnic basket.

"This is beautiful. I've never been to this part of the park."

"Well, you mentioned you liked to hike and didn't get out of the office much, so I thought this would be perfect."

"It is."

_This guy can't be for real. I'm sure he's an axe murder or married or something_, Laura thought as she watched him unpack the rest of the lunch fare that included a bottle of wine.

After lunching in the shade of a lone oak tree, the pair trekked along a trail of 80-year-old cobblestone to the swimming hole at the bottom of the waterfall.

"On the weekend this place is packed with tourists, but on weekdays, we'll be lucky if we see another person the rest of the afternoon."

Laura didn't know if this prospect frightened or excited her, so she simply flashed an uncommitted grin and started to remove clothing.

To her relief, Brock didn't watch, but worked his own clothing free. Once down to his trunks, he dove in.

"Come on, it's refreshing."

"That's another word for freezing!" Laura yelled.

Back at the car, the trooper's radio started to buzz:

"Troop A to Zebra 125. Over."

"Zebra 125. Go ahead."

"10-20. Over."

"Angeles National Forest; Switzer Falls."

"We have a 10-99 for your passengers. Over."

"No problems here. We're clear."

"Troop A to Baker 21. Proceed with delivery. Over."

"Copy."

Forty minutes later, a black and white Crown Victoria pulled behind the Cadillac and parked at the top of the hill overlooking the waterfall.

The trooper got out and was reaching for the handle on the back door when it flung open.

"Where is she?"

"Down here, sir." The trooper led the way to the bottom of the trail and onto the rocky shores of the swimming hole.

Laura giggled as Brock pulled her near the waterfall, holding her close. After they caught the edge of the falls, Laura smoothed back her hair and tried to catch her breath. Before the last gasp escaped, Brock grabbed her lips with his and kissed her.

"There they are sir."

Remington scanned the rocky edge, then spotted Laura near the waterfall. He stared at the embrace and Laura's arm wrapped around another man's neck unable to turn away. He stood with his mouth slightly open and scrambled mentally to think of a way to get her attention.

"Uh, hum," Remington forced in a guttural tone.

Laura quickly turned and saw Remington standing at the edge of the water. He dropped his gaze to his feet.

"Um, ah," Laura stammered as she wriggled out of Brock's embrace.

She swam to the edge of the water and pulled herself out. She grabbed her towel and walked to Remington.

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to save your hide, but I see it's already busy at the moment."

"We're not going to start that again are we?"

"No, Laura. You're free to snog whomever you want. That _was_ our agreement."

"That's not exactly how I put it, but, yes, that's what we agreed to." They paused.

"Did you come up here to lecture me or do you have something else in mind?"

"Everything OK?" Brock interjected as he rubbed a green beach towel across his hair.

"Everything's fine. I just need a few minutes to talk to Mr. Steele about a case."

"Out here?"

"Not everyone gets time during their day to frolic in a waterfall," Remington sneered. Laura squinted her eyes.

"I'll be done in a minute, Brock," Laura offered as she wrapped the towel around her.

She watched Brock walk toward the car, then returned to Remington. "Now, what's so important that you had to track me down in the middle of a national forest on my day off?"

"Eldon Vekmer."

"Vekmer? He's in prison."

"Well, as of 9 a.m. this morning that's no longer the case. Apparently, our boy played the good soldier and earned an early release."

"But he wasn't due for parole for another five years."

Remington raised his eyebrow and slid a toothpick in his mouth.

Laura sighed. "Give me a minute and I'll meet you at the patrol car."

Remington watched Laura climb the rocks to the picnic area and get in the backseat of Brock's car. He followed, and stood on the other side of the patrol car with his hands on the roof, trying to make out any movement through the darkly shaded windows. Laura pulled her tote from the trunk, then walked to face Remington.

"Alright, let's go."

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 4

By R.J. Harrington,

Laura hadn't visited the FBI since they called in a favor from her former classmate to test Mr. Bloustein's bullet-proof blazer. The building had been renovated, but remained the same glass and metal homage to coldness that it always was.

Without a word to Remington, who'd jogged up behind her trying to keep pace, she pressed the elevator button for the 6th floor and checked her note.

_Agent Hersley, FBI_

_6__th__ Fl_

_Suite # 680_

She'd gotten Hersley's name from an LA police detective who worked Vekmer's case two years ago. He wasn't too happy that his prize arrest and conviction was being spared time in jail without explanation to the district attorney's office or the LAPD.

The police department was told only that it was an FBI matter and they would be briefed when the need arose, which meant never. He was already bitter that the jury refused to pin Vekmer with murder and opted for convictions on white-collar crimes. It didn't help either that their star witness, Greg Keever, had washed ashore near San Diego after a weekend fishing trip a month before the trial began.

The elevator doors opened.

Laura and Remington walked to the center of the empty car and turned to face the doors as they closed. Remington cautiously turned his eyes toward Laura; his hands still deep in the pockets of his newly tailored blue suit.

"Laura, this is bloody ridiculous. We can't go on not talking to each other and expect to get to the bottom of this case."

"I've done fine so far."

"And, so you have, but now we're involving the FBI and they'll want to know why the Remington Steele detective agency is interested in a man they sprang from prison; and they'll want that answer to come from the head of the agency. I'm merely suggesting we approach this as a united front."

Laura sneered.

"Fine."

The doors opened. Laura stepped first with Remington close behind as they walked the carpeted hallway, reading signs to locate Suite 680.

"Alright, you want to do this together, we'll do this together. But, no more discussions about my dates."

"Agreed." Remington smiled and sped up his pace. He cut off Laura and turned to face her with his hand against the wall. "Now, what are we going to do about Agent Hersley?"

************

The lobby to Agent Hersley's office was dimly lit with an occasional flicker of florescent light. Metal artwork decorated the walls and there were no chairs for visitors. It was clear Agent Hersley wasn't much for comfort. After a once-over of the room, Remington crossed his arms and shrugged at Laura. They took turns staring at Hersley's assistant until the wooden double doors opened.

"Agent Hersley, I'm Laura Holt and this is…"

"Steele, Remington Steele." He said extending his hand. Laura rolled her eyes.

"Welcome Mr. Steele, Miss Holt. Please, have a seat."

"Now, what can I do for you?"

"Well, Mr. Hersley, we understand that a man involved with one of our previous clients was released from prison two days ago, and we were told that you may be able to help us understand why."

Hersley smiled. As he began rambling his prepared statement to Laura, Remington rose from his chair and started wandering the office. The agent continued the company line while trying to keep track of Remington's movements; growing more nervous and rattled with each object Remington touched. Laura had to smirk. He _was_ genius even though she hated to admit it.

In between sentences, Remington interjected a statement or question to keep Hersley off-guard.

"You're a baseball fan?" Remington said eyeing a baseball autographed by George Brett.

"Yes, I grew up in Kansas City."

"Ah," Remington said as he moved down the shelf.

The conversation between Hersley and Laura continued.

"So, Mr. Hersley, you don't know why Eldon Vekmer was released from prison five years before his first chance at parole?"

"No, Miss Holt," he said as Remington picked up a few papers on a desk across the office.

"Uh, don't mess with those."

"And, you aren't sure why the FBI would be interested in Mr. Vekmer?"

"No, no … Mr. Steele, please, those are classified."

Remington held up one of the papers. "A lunch menu from Orient Express?" He smiled.

"Mr. Hersley, Eldon Vekmer was involved in corporate espionage that ultimately led to murder."

Remington picked up Hersley's gun.

"Is he working with the FBI on a similar case?"

Hersley rushed to the other side of the room, and before he could think of what he was saying, he blurted "Yes, with the Japanese."

Hersley grabbed the gun, then realized what he'd said. He slowly turned to Laura and Remington, who stared at him with knowing smiles.

Remington leaned against the desk and crossed one leg in front of the other. "Now, Mr. Hersley, I think in light of recent developments we can come to some kind of agreement that wouldn't involve your superiors knowing about this little breech of protocol."

Hersley slouched into his chair.

"Fine, but I can't tell you everything. This is an ongoing investigation." Laura and Remington grinned at each other, then returned their gaze to the agent.

"Go ahead, Agent Hersley," Laura said calmly and confidently as she and Remington both perched on the edge of Hersley's black leather chairs.

Hersley looked at one private investigator and then the other. He took a deep breath and began his story, "It all started in Belgium…"

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 5

By R.J. Harrington,

Mildred returned from lunch early to get a jumpstart on what was to be a full afternoon with four appointments lined up for security contracts alone. Just as she pulled the file for Swanson Electronics, she swiveled her chair in time to catch Laura laughing as she breezed through the glass doors of Remington Steele Investigations.

"You were nothing short of brilliant, Mr. Steele."

Remington beamed as he strode in behind her.

"You kids have fun?" Mildred asked as she stepped from behind the desk, curious as ever to hear their tale.

"You should have seen him Mildred. He would have made Colombo proud."

"Colombo?"

"An old TV show, boss."

"Ah."

"Now, are you two going to spill the beans or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"

"Grab your pad and pencil, Mildred," Laura said as Remington extended his arm, ushering them into his office.

"But, what about our meetings with Derek Swanson … and Mr. Wellston on those death threats?"

"They will have to wait," Laura said, "We have bigger fish to fry."

Remington sat in his chair, propping his feet on the desk. Laura rested at the front edge and Mildred took her dutiful seat in the chair across the room.

"So, what's the scoop?"

Laura turned to Remington. He gestured with his hand, giving Laura the floor.

"Well," she said with a proud grin, "according to Agent Hersley, the FBI has been working with the NSA, the Treasury Department and the CIA Counterintelligence Center to infiltrate a foreign espionage ring that involves at least four countries and billions of dollars in stolen technology. Technology that investigators think may be used for military weapons upgrades."

"Wow, that's a hum dinger. So, how does Vekmer fit into this?"

"It's a little foggy at the moment, Mildred, but Hersley said about a month ago, the U.S agent in Belgium, who is Japanese, had blown his cover. They needed someone who knew about industrial espionage and state-of-the-art technology to rebuild the relationship with the Russian agent, who has been working undercover as a Belgian businessman."

"So … the Japanese agent … is really from the U.S. … and the Russian agent … is pretending to be Belgian?"

"Something like that," Remington interjected, flipping his feet to the floor and walking to the couch.

"So, what are we going to do, boss?" Mildred asked as she strained to watch Remington walk behind her.

Laura ignored Mildred's now annoying habit of asking "the boss" and started in without argument from Remington. He had grown fond of Laura's methodical explanations and wasn't about to interrupt her.

"Nothing at the moment, Mildred. We're meeting with Agent Hersley in the morning to discuss our security concerns with Vekmer. Mr. Steele and I will try to _pump_ him for ….." RING. RING.

Mildred quickly shuffled to the desk to answer.

"Remington Steele Investigations. … Yes, one moment."

"It's for you Miss Holt. Brock Bradford."

Despite her desire to appear nonchalant, Laura couldn't help but look at Remington. He frowned and crossed his arms. She felt guilty, which annoyed her more than anything. She didn't want to need him, but knew in spite of her request in Cannes that she couldn't live without him. He was the Ying to her Yang.

"Yes, Mildred, I'll take it in my office."

Laura's walk was overly confident as she glided through the red connecting door and closed it behind her.

"I know it's none of my business, boss – and trying to figure out the two of you makes my head spin – but you've got to do something."

"What would you suggest I do, Mildred? This is what she wants remember? We agreed in Cannes not to mix business with pleasure and I promised to support that decision. I just didn't think she would actually go through with this shur-awd."

"Well, I probably shouldn't be telling you this," Mildred whispered as she crept closer to Remington, "Miss Holt would kill me -- but he calls her at least three times a day and sends her flowers and yesterday he asked her to go away with him to San Francisco."

Remington looked up. "San Francisco?"

Mildred's face squeezed into a pained look as she nodded.

Remington jumped from the couch, grabbed his jacket and quickly walked out the door.

"Where are you going, boss?"

"Tell Miss Holt I'll be back for our meeting with Mr. Wellston."

"But, boss…."

Laura emerged from her door to the lobby in time to see the last of Remington's foot slide through the glass door.

"Was that Mr. Steele?"

"Uh, huh."

"Where is he going? We have a meeting with Mr. Swanson in 15 minutes!"

"I don't know Miss Holt, but I don't think he's too happy about the situation, if you know what I mean."

"Well, that's great. … We've got business to conduct and he's got a lunch date with Vanessa or Brandi or Cyndie or whoever it is at the moment!"

Mildred crossed her arms and tilted her head, shooting Laura a look.

"All I'm saying is that he's using agency funds and the limo for personal business. That's all."

"Um, hmm."

Laura grinned and headed for her office.

"Grab the Swanson file, Mildred."

*********

Remington slid the dime into the payphone down the street from the office and tapped the top impatiently.

"Come on. Come on."

"Hello."

"Pauley, I need your help. … No worries, mate, you'll get a couple a quid for this one. Now, listen, I need you to run some names for me and I'm not talking about through the usual channels, you got me? … Alright. Find out everything you can on Brock Bradford and a guy by the name of Sanford Wellston. … Yes, yes, _that_ Brock Bradford! Can you do it? … Brilliant. I'll ring you in two days."

Remington jammed the telephone back onto the holder and instinctively looked around as he slowly walked to the limo. He popped a toothpick in his mouth and slid his hands into the pockets of his taupe trench coat.

"Back to the office, Fred."

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 6

By R.J. Harrington,

The second meeting with Agent Hersley yielded little more than the name of the Japanese company that was bleeding secrets – Anritsu – and the admission that the Russians were illegally buying the technology for possible military use. The FBI refused details on Vekmer's assignment other than to reassure Laura that he was already out of L.A. and would soon be in Brussels, which seemed safe enough.

Remington made it back to the office in time to meet with Mr. Wellston about his death threats, but Wellston never showed. As Brock Bradford's opponent, it was questionable whether Laura should take Wellston's case, but he was insistent. He called later to reschedule for the next afternoon. They met in a filthy diner along Pico that was empty except for Jimmy, who operated as waiter, chef and bus boy.

"Miss Holt, Mr. Steele, thank you for meeting with me like this. It's not safe for me to be seen at your office."

"Mr. Wellston, I understand your concern, but don't you think the police can handle your security?"

"Laura … may I call you Laura? … I don't know how much you know about my background."

"Not much."

"But, these people don't mess around. Do you understand? They're going to kill me."

"Mis-ter Wellston," Remington began with skepticism, "I don't mean to underestimate your predicament, but it seems to me, that this is a matter for…"

A quick buzzing sound ripped past Remington's ear. Laura turned to the small opening in the window, then back to Wellston. He gripped his chest and slowly opened his suit coat, revealing a growing blood stain.

He fell toward Laura in the booth and grasped her hand, slipping a key into her palm. In a weak whisper, he tried to speak.

"Take this … to my … hotel. The note … find the note in the bru … in the brush. Get it to Hersley."

"What brush? Mr. Wellston!"

"Laura, the police. We need to go."

"This way."

Laura and Remington slipped out the back into an alley. They followed the damp path until they reached the limo two blocks over. It was Wellston's suggestion they park and walk. He must have known.

"Hit it, Fred."

As they sped down Santa Monica Boulevard, they studied the gold key.

"Wilshire Grand Hotel," Laura read as she flipped the key in her fingers.

Remington preempted her next thought. "It won't be safe until dark. What do you say to a midnight rendezvous, Miss Holt?"

"I'd say you are a little too upbeat for someone who almost served as target practice."

"All in the line of duty, my dear. All in the line of duty."

Laura picked up the car phone and started dialing.

"Who are you calling?"

"I need to call Brock and let him know about Sanford Wellston."

Remington ripped the phone from her hand and returned it to the base.

"WHAT, are you doing?" Laura said through clinched teeth.

"You aren't calling anyone."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Laura, you call Bradford, and this is all over. He knows we're involved, we never find out what in bloody hell we've gotten ourselves into and you may be tipping off our prime suspect."

"Brock Bradford, a murderer? Please."

She picked up the phone.

"Lau-ra?"

Laura pressed her lips together and squinted at Remington, but she knew he was right. She hung up and scooted across the leather seat to the door.

"It's not safe to go back to the office until we know what's in that room," Laura said, starring out the window. "We'll need to stay together until then."

Remington wiggled his eyebrows. Noticing her rising annoyance, he quickly held up his hand dismissively. "Ah, all business, Laura."

To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 7

By R.J. Harrington,

Remington crouched in the stairwell above the landing for the 16th floor of the Wilshire Grand Hotel with Laura two steps below. He unscrewed the air vent cover from the wall and pulled a black duffle from the duct where he'd stashed it a few hours earlier.

He whipped off the white jacket of his tux, spun off the bow tie and tore through the buttons of his shirt, switching to a tight black T-shirt and leather jacket.

He caught Laura peeking and smiled.

They stuffed Laura's black sequenced gown and his tux into the vent, screwed on the cover and headed to the gray metal door leading to the roof. Remington had disabled the electronic monitors for the door and the one camera that scanned the top of the hotel, replacing it with pre-taped footage. His know-how with high-priced alarm systems was a never-ending source of fascination for Laura. She'd learned to trust him completely in this facet of their work.

Once on the roof, the lights of the city lit up the sky, drowning out most of the stars, but not the hint of a crescent moon. As he worked the lock on a cover protecting the fire escape, he looked up at Laura, who was admiring the view.

"Lovely, eh?" Remington said.

"In a weird sort of way."

He returned to the lock. "Got it."

Remington swung open the cage from the ladder and lowered it toward the balcony of Wellston's suite at the corner of the 16th floor. He hopped from the ladder onto the balcony and lifted his arms to help Laura.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Remington wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him, capturing her lips before she could protest. After a moment, she stepped back and looked at him. Neither said a word. Without regard to safety or the real possibility of getting caught, Laura moved to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with more passion. They lingered there until both stopped to catch their breath.

Still standing in each other's arms, Laura smiled.

"Didn't want to waste the view," she said softly.

"Hm, um," Remington said as he shook his head.

"Hm, um," she returned as she reached up to touch his lips.

With a king size bed only a glass door away, Remington had to concentrate to stay focused on their task.

"Laura," he managed between touches, "if we don't stop, this suite might be used for more than solving this case."

Laura smiled as she lowered her arms and moved toward the door. Remington licked his lips before turning to follow.

Once inside, the partners split up with Remington staying in the main bedroom of the suite and Laura heading to the sitting area near the front. They checked closets, cabinets and the main bathroom for any brush that could yield a clue.

Laura walked back to the bedroom.

"I can't find _anything_," she said exasperated, throwing her hands in the air.

Remington froze in thought, biting his lip.

"What is it?"

"The Man Who Knew Too Much."

"What?"

"Leslie Banks, Edna Best, 1934. Peter Lorre's first English-speaking role, ah, wonderful."

"What does that have to do with this case?"

"A husband and wife stumble onto an assassination plot after finding a note in the handle of a shaving … brush!"

Laura smiled and the pair quickly jogged to the bathroom, pulling Wellston's bag of toiletries from the vanity. Remington found a shaving brush, hoisting it in triumph.

"Just open it."

Remington twisted the handle and popped off the bottom. Inside was a small white paper with a note scribbled on one side.

_SF Market & Grant_

_Veranda – 8:07_

_T=BB _

They were standing with the flashlight beamed at the clues when they heard the lock on the front door.

"Let's get out of here."

The two quietly sped to the balcony and climbed the ladder, before pulling the fire escape back to the roof. They latched the cage and returned to the stairwell.

"Someone was looking for this," Laura said, pulling the piece of paper from her pocket.

"Let's not wait around to find out who," Remington said as he retied his bowtie. Laura adjusted his jacket and the two left the way they came in, through a wedding reception on the ground floor.

Back at the office, Laura giggled in delight as she fell onto the couch in Remington's office with her feet propped on the table. She had learned to appreciate their late night escapades and the intimacy it always fostered.

"Not bad for a night's work, wouldn't you say Mr. Steele?"

Remington didn't answer. Laura sat up and looked at him. He had picked up something from his desk and was standing across the room with a ripped piece of yellow notepad in his hand.

"What's that?" Laura asked, growing concerned.

Remington said nothing and held his arm behind him with the note extended to Laura. She took it and looked at him for some clue of what she was about to find.

She read the note and looked back at Remington with fear.

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 8

By R.J. Harrington,

Laura and Remington crowded into the small interview room at the local precinct of the LAPD after a short drive from the office. Surrounded by stark white walls, a glaring light and a video camera, they gave a full report to uniformed officers, then asked the lieutenant to call Det. Jarvis.

Once on the line, Laura grabbed the receiver.

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Miss Holt."

"I don't care if it's two minutes to donuts Jarvis. You find her or we will."

She turned to Remington. "He's on his way."

The two sat helpless in the orange leather office chairs that were covered in cracks and one missing screw from collapsing.

Twenty minutes later, Jarvis swung through the doors.

"Now, what's this all about, Miss Holt?"

"They kidnapped Mildred."

Jarvis ushered them into his office and got the story from the beginning, minus the part about the note in Wellston's hotel room. If the warning on the torn yellow paper was legitimate, whoever had Mildred would kill her if Laura and Remington took the information to the LAPD or the FBI.

Jarvis would have to find her with the information they could give him and the threatening note left in Remington's office.

"We'll get right on it Miss Holt, Mr. Steele. Now, please don't attempt to find her on your own. These are obviously very dangerous people we're dealing with and I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

"Right," Laura said with a quick glance at Remington for reassurance that that's exactly what they were going to do.

Laura and Remington left the police station and headed to the limo in the parking garage. They were startled by a man moving from the shadows.

"Did you really think you could break into Wellston's hotel room and no one would know?"

Remington smiled.

"Agent Hersley. How nice to see you again."

"We know he's dead Steele and you were with him. Give us what you found in the room and all this goes away."

Remington laughed and turned to usher Laura into the limo. Hersley grabbed his arm and turned him. Remington calmly looked down at Hersley's hand and back up at the agent.

He pulled his arm away, and without saying a word, got into the limo. He closed the door and instructed Fred to drive away.

"Do you think it's a good idea to ignore the FBI?"

"What choice do we have Laura? Someone we don't know has Mildred and until we find out who we're dealing with, I don't think it's safe to tell anyone what's on that note."

"I suppose you're right. Let's go home, change and we'll meet up with Jarvis' men at the office in a couple of hours."

"You said we needed to stay together, remember?" Remington said with boyish hope.

Laura smiled. "We'll go to your place and then the loft."

"Home, Fred."

********

Laura waited on the couch with a fresh cup of tea, needing all of the caffeine she could muster for another sleepless night of detecting.

Deep in thought, she was startled by the sudden appearance of her partner at the back of the couch. She turned to find him in jeans, no shirt and a white towel wrapped around his neck. Water dripped from his hair down his chest. She struggled to look away. As always, he caught her admiration and smiled.

"Do you think she's OK?"

"Mildred? Yes, I don't think they'd harm her. She's the only guarantee they have at the moment that we won't turn over the information to the FBI."

Remington sat on the couch next to Laura and took the cup and saucer from her hands. He rested them on the table and turned to take her hand between his.

"We'll find her, Laura."

She grinned as she lost herself in thought. _He was wonderful. He clearly cared for her. What was the problem? Why couldn't she trust him and just scratch the itch that desperately needed scratching? _

"Now, don't we need to get you a change of clothes?"

"Laura?"

"Huh, oh, yes…clothes."

With Remington watching in wonder, Laura stood and walked slowly to the door.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes, fine." She broke her daze and realized he was staring at her in confusion. "I suppose I'm just worried about Mildred."

"Yes, well, with Jarvis' men preoccupied, we should have this thing wrapped up by sunrise." Remington smirked as he opened the door and ushered Laura into the hallway.

******

After a quick stop at the loft for a change of clothes, Laura and Remington rushed to the office in the limo to learn what they could from police before striking out on their own to find Mildred. Remington's mind was already spinning after making a quick call to Pauley from Laura's loft. His old friend had turned up "somethin' fascinatin'" that they couldn't discuss via telephone.

He chewed his thumb nail in anticipation.

"Laura?"

"Yes."

"How much do you know about Brock Bradford?"

"He didn't kill Wellston, so let's drop it!"

"No, no, that's not what I mean. … How much do you know about his past?"

"Well, not much more than what's public knowledge. We don't discuss our past lives. I like my men with a little mystery, remember?"

Remington faked a smile and returned to nibbling his nail.

"You know something, don't you?"

"Ah, here we are." Remington jumped out of the limo and headed for the elevator.

Once the doors opened, he used his long legs to outpace Laura to the office.

"You're going to have to tell me eventually," she grumbled under her breath as they approached Det. Jarvis.

"Find anything Jarvis?"

"Not yet Miss Holt, only a few partial finger prints and some fibers we have yet to identify."

"Your usual bang up job, eh, Jarvis."

The detective scowled and turned to officers. Laura and Remington didn't move. Jarvis turned back and looked at them before staring at the floor.

"We _have_ found something else."

"By all means don't keep us in suspense," Laura chided.

Jarvis turned to an officer and took something from her hand.

"Do you recognize this Miss Holt?"

Laura stood stunned, staring at the object. She lifted her eyes to Jarvis.

"Yes," her hands were shaking.

"Laura, what is it?"

Remington took the object from Jarvis' hand. He looked at Laura, then turned the object over. It was stamped "To L From G. All my love."

"Laura?"

She walked to the other side of the lobby with her hand on her hip. Remington followed and scooted beside her, leaning to see her face.

"Laura, what is this?"

She took the object from his hand, rubbing her thumb along the smooth surface.

"It's a key to my grandmother's piano."

Remington stared at the ivory, then realized with a mixture of fear and fight…"Vekmer!"

"We've got to get you out of here." He handed the piano key back to Jarvis.

"Steele? Miss Holt? Where are you going?" Jarvis' voice rose as he yelled down the hall. "Don't interfere with this investigation!"

To Be Continued


	9. Chapter 9

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 9

By R.J. Harrington,

The limo pulled into an alley behind LA Cold Storage Company and parked under the dim street lamp. Remington hadn't spoken during the drive other than to mention they were meeting a friend. He couldn't shake the thought of the piano key and the trauma Vekmer had dealt Laura the first time around. This was a cruel reminder of how helpless he was to protect his partner; no matter his skill or desire to keep her safe.

"Over here," Remington said as he placed his hand on the small of Laura's back and led her to a dented green door at the back of the warehouse.

Remington tapped twice, then ran his fingers over his nose and through his hair. The door opened.

"Steele." Pauley shook his hand. "And, who's the pretty lady?"

"Pauley Smithton, Laura Holt."

"Pleasure," Pauley said as he lifted Laura's hand to kiss it.

"Alright, alright. Now, you said you had something for me."

Pauley handed Remington an envelope.

Remington looked at Pauley as he opened the package and pulled the report. Laura watched his expression change from indifferent to discouraged. He finished the one-page synopsis and looked away, handing the report to Laura.

"Have a look at this."

While Laura perused the paragraphs, Remington returned to Pauley, "Are you certain these are accurate?"

"Would I steer you wrong? If you don't believe me, I'll get Frank and Victor."

"No, no, you've been more than helpful, mate."

Laura slowly handed the report back to Remington as tears welled in her eyes.

"I led them right to him. They were using me."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I shouldn't have expected anything less."

Remington touched Laura's shoulder in comfort and handed Pauley his payment. As the limo drove down Alameda, Remington put his arm around Laura without venturing to ask her thoughts. She stared at her hands, fidgeting her fingers.

A few minutes later, Remington broke the silence. "Laura, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known."

"Yes, but I should have. I could have stopped this before Wellston lost his life and before they kidnapped Mildred. God, Mildred."

Remington pulled the report from the envelope and read it again.

_Before running for mayor, Sanford Wellston worked for the CIA in Belgium as an undercover employee of Anritsu Electronics. It was his job to track fellow employees who were suspected of selling trade secrets to outside interests. He discovered a plan to sell the Russians a type of semiconductor technology that can be used in radar for submarines. Wellston's cover and that of a Japanese agent were blown, prompting the FBI to release a prisoner to help them. _

Remington still didn't know how or why Vekmer was in Los Angeles, or if he had returned after leaving the country as Hersley alluded. The most disturbing part of the report was near the end. It was one line…._Brock Bradford, former CEO, Anritsu._

"We need to talk to Hersley."

Laura looked up at Remington and simply nodded. It was a risk. If the FBI botched the raid, Mildred could be harmed; but doing nothing was no longer an option.

They met with Hersley and Agent-In-Charge Gary Johnson at a nearby office complex. They turned over the note from Wellston's hotel room and a copy of the yellow paper Vekmer left in their office demanding silence. Both agents understood. Johnson explained they needed to force Vekmer to make contact to trace the call and locate Mildred before Vekmer executed the plot listed on Wellston's note.

They called Spotlight News and arranged a somewhat bogus story about a fugitive they needed help locating. They made sure the video included Hersley talking to Remington, then headed back to the office to watch. It took less than five minutes after the start of the news for the telephone to ring in Remington's office. He looked at Laura.

"Just pick it up and speak slowly," Hersley instructed.

"Steele, here."

"I warned you not to involve the authorities, Mr. Steele. It's unfortunate you chose to ignore my request."

"We didn't ignore you Vekmer. We still have the note."

"Don't tell anyone what you found in Wellston's hotel room or your friend never makes it back. The river is beautiful this time of year. It would be a pity if someone were to slip and fall."

"How do we know she's OK Vekmer?" Remington heard the phone shuffle and a few faint voices in the background before a clear sound rang through.

"Boss?"

"Mildred, are you OK? Have they hurt you?"

"No, but please get me out of here." Mildred's voice trailed off as Vekmer pulled the phone.

"Mildred?"

"She'll be released as soon as the assignment is completed, assuming you don't interfere."

"You hurt her Vekmer…"

"And, you'll what? You're in quite a precarious position to be making such a bold statement, Mr. Steele. Just keep your end of the bargain and stay quiet."

The line clicked.

Remington looked at Laura with eyes that conveyed both fear and resolve. She had seen the look before when they'd faced the unknown with potentially fatal consequences. Their stare was interrupted by Hersley, who anxiously awaited results on the trace.

"Got him! As long as he's not on the move, we've got our man."

"Now, you two know what to do. The next time we see you, we'll have our killer."

He paused and looked up at Laura, "And, hopefully, your boyfriend will have averted an assassination. See you in San Francisco."

To Be Continued


	10. Chapter 10

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 10

By R.J. Harrington,

Remington unlocked the door to his condo and followed Laura into the living room, throwing his jacket onto the back of the couch.

"The tea is a little tepid, but I can brew another cup if you'd like."

"No … thank you," Laura whispered. She slowly moved to the front of the couch and reclined in its plump cushions. Remington stared for a moment before suppressing a frustrated growl and heading to the bedroom. He packed a few essentials and one of his black tuxedos in a leather garment bag and returned to the living room. He plopped the bag on the floor by the door.

"You know I have to go with him."

"Naturally."

"To keep up appearances. If Vekmer is watching, he'll know something is wrong if we veer from the original plan."

"Makes perfect sense, Laura. Shall we?"

Laura rose from the couch as Remington slung the garment bag on his shoulder and grabbed a black trench coat. With his back to the wall, she moved in front of him, standing close enough to keep him from continuing through the door.

"I'll be OK. The troopers will see to that."

"It's not your security I'm worried about, Laura."

Remington slid the bag off his shoulder and held it in his right hand; his coat in the other. He dropped them both as Laura pressed him against the wall and kissed him, planting one hand on his shoulder and pushing the other through his hair.

He pulled her to him as tight as he could in the few seconds he had to overcome the shock. He felt her warmth and the silky curves of her hair. He was lost in her.

She drifted back to the floor from her toes and watched his face. She loved him. Why couldn't she say it? She knew he needed assurance he wasn't losing her, but this was all she could give him. She was too frightened to let him in, to let go. She had too much to lose.

She gently laid her hand on his chest, then walked through the door. He stood reeling in the scent of her perfume and the meaning of her kiss before following her to the elevator.

**************

The Four Seasons Hotel stood 16 stories at the corner of Market Street and Grant Avenue in the heart of the chic Yerba Buena district near downtown San Francisco. It was known for romance, celebrities and the occasional political scandal – to which tonight would be added. The modern metallic façade gave way to the golden floor-to-ceiling glass entrance where the uniformed doorman waited to usher visitors to the opulent atrium with arched ceilings and cream-colored marble floors.

Laura gazed through the lobby at the sculptures and the people as Brock and his team checked in. Remington was to arrive an hour later disguised as an older man with a mustache and hearing aid, conveniently fitted with a two-way radio so he and Laura could maintain constant contact. Her thoughts on the evening were broken when the clerk announced their room assignment.

"The Worten Suite, sir."

"Thank you."

"One room?"

"It has two bedrooms, Laura. Don't worry," Brock said with a smile.

"Oh."

"Is everything alright? You haven't seemed yourself since the flight from Los Angeles."

"Fine, I'm fine. I'm just not used to…" she stopped, not sure how to continue.

"Not used to what? Me? San Francisco? The Four Seasons?"

Laura grinned. "Yes, The Four Seasons."

Brock didn't press for a real answer, figuring there was a reason for her evasiveness.

After a long, quiet elevator ride, Laura followed Brock through the suite door. Their luggage was waiting for them in the entryway. The trooper remained outside. Laura walked to the window and stared absently at the view of the city.

"One of the best, I've been told," Brock said of the view as he walked to the main bedroom.

"I can see why. It's lovely."

Brock returned to the living room with a chilled bottle of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, setting them on the black granite table.

"I thought we could relax for a moment before making our grand entrance downstairs in the Veranda Ballroom."

Laura whipped her head around.

"Veranda?"

"Yes, they moved the event to the Veranda Ballroom since they were running short on space. Personally, I think the reservations increased after Sanford's death. I suddenly became the big story."

"Um, Brock, excuse me for a moment."

Laura rushed to the front room and pulled a copy of the note they'd found in Wellston's hotel room.

_SF Market & Grant_

_Veranda – 8:07_

_T=BB_

After a quick peek around the corner to make sure Brock remained preoccupied, Laura slipped into the bathroom and pulled the tiny two-way radio receiver from her pocket.

"Mr. Steele?" she whispered with no response.

"Mr. Steele? Pick up."

"Certainly you haven't forgotten my alias Miss Holt. If this is going to work, you need to follow our little plan to a T."

"Fine."

"Well, let's hear it."

"Mr. Steele, we're in an emergency situation here, I don't think this is the time to…"

"Just say it Laura." Remington said with a smile so broad she could see it through the radio.

"Dollface to Dashing Dave, Over? There, are you satisfied?!"

"Completely, now how may I help you?"

Laura sighed to calm her nerves and return her thoughts to the case. She'd agreed to this new alias after he insisted that a new character in a syndicated cartoon was drawn in his likeness. She shook her head and continued.

"Tonight's event has been moved. It's in the Veranda Ballroom. They're going to make an attempt in the Veranda Ballroom."

"I know."

"What do you mean you know?"

"Agent Hersley told me. The FBI is already set up downstairs."

"And, when were you going to tell me about this little fact? When I walked into the ballroom like a sitting duck?"

"Laura, do you really think I would put you in such danger? You cut me to the quick. Now, meet me downstairs at the restaurant in 15 minutes."

"How will I know it's you?"

The line went dead. Laura stuffed the resister back into her pocket and headed for the entryway. She turned to tell Brock she needed to retrieve a message at the front desk when saw him pull his black tux jacket over his shoulders. He was stunning. Her stomach suddenly churned with anxiety. She watched him pull his speech from a satchel and begin to pace as he rehearsed his lines. Little did he know someone would make an attempt on his life tonight and that she was charged with saving him.

"Laura?"

"Huh," Laura broke her absent stare and smiled. "I've got to go downstairs for a minute and retrieve a message at the front desk."

"I didn't hear the telephone ring."

"Yes…well...I called from the telephone in the bathroom to check, since I'm expecting a call from Mildred on a case." The lie seemed perfectly harmless and, in this case, necessary.

"OK. We've got to head to the ballroom by 7."

"Right."

*******

Laura scanned the restaurant entrance, the tables, the bar, but didn't see anyone who remotely resembled Remington Steele. She took a seat in the middle of the room at a small round table and leaned back, trying to look nonchalant as she searched different corners of the room.

She sat up when a waiter approached with something in his hand. She was leery of anyone at this point, since she knew little about what was to happen. Vekmer surely had others helping him, and wouldn't think twice about killing Laura as a side bonus to his job on Brock Bradford.

She must have appeared suspicious because the waiter backed off slightly before deciding to approach.

"Miss Holt?"

"Yes, who wants to know?"

"Um, here ma'am, compliments of the gentleman."

Laura looked around the tuxedo-clad waiter to see a tall slender, older gentleman approaching her. She smiled.

The waiter popped the cork as the gentleman wandered his way to her table.

"A magnum of champagne?"

"You look thirsty."

"Do you always do things on such a grand scale, Mr. ?"

"The name's Dashing. And, only when I'm aroused…by curiosity."

Laura tried to stifle her laugh to avoid attracting attention, but failed, releasing a silly giggle that spread into a broad grin. He certainly knew how to make an entrance and distract her at the same time. Any lingering thoughts of Brock Bradford in his perfectly tailored suit vanished. All attention and longing refocused on him.

"I figured we could take a moment to relax before our big night."

Laura toasted him with her glass and sipped the champagne.

"So, is there anything else I need to know about this change in plans?"

"No, other than the FBI isn't certain when Vekmer or his hired guns will make an attempt."

"What? So, it could be in the crowd or on stage or during a myriad of other moments?"

"Yes, but don't worry. Agents are placed throughout the room and we _do_ have the time, remember."

"Great, I knew we should have handled this case on our own. Are they at least ready to retrieve Mildred once this plays out?"

"Yes, no worries there."

"Alright, I'll be coming down with Brock at 7. That gives us an hour to scope prospective assassins and get Brock to the podium. I'll be on stage with a good view of the ballroom. I need you as close as possible."

"Like a moth to a flame, Miss Holt."

Laura rolled her eyes and then stood to walk upstairs. Before getting too far from the table, she turned back to Remington.

"Thank you for the champagne…and the curiosity."

Remington winked and raised his glass.

******

Laura slipped into her red floor-length gown and pushed the thin straps onto her shoulders. She pulled her hair into a twist of curls atop her head and sat on the edge of her bed to fasten the small buckles on her shimmering silver sandals.

On the way out of the room, she swiped her small metallic clutch from the side table and opened the door to the suite. Brock stopped pacing and looked up.

"Wow. You look...amazing."

"Thank you." Laura said as she rummaged through her purse to keep from making eye contact. By the time she looked up, Brock was standing in front of her. He reached for her hand.

"Laura, I know we haven't had much time to spend together lately because of my campaign, so thank you for coming with me tonight. I thought for a moment you were going to turn me down."

Laura forced a brief smile, then looked at their hands. "I agreed to come to San Francisco, so I wasn't going to back out now."

She looked up at him, making the eye contact she desperately wanted to avoid. He leaned down and kissed her, gently moving her lips with his. He dropped her hand and pulled her to him as his kiss grew more passionate. Laura raised her hands to his arms to stop him.

"Don't we need to go? It's almost 7?" she said, slightly out of breath.

Brock smiled. "Yes, you're right. Maybe we can continue this later."

Laura checked her purse for the radio, then slipped it under her arm. The kiss left her emotions jockeying for position. She was excited, confused, anxious and angry. After all, Brock had yet to tell her about his past and what he'd done at Anritsu. As much as she wanted to believe he wasn't involved with espionage and selling trade secrets that could potentially put thousands of people at risk, nothing else explained why they wanted to kill him.

She inhaled, tightening the dress to her chest. She held it for a moment before releasing her tension and following Brock to the elevator. As the floors ticked off, she tightened her grip on his arm. The doors opened.

To Be Continued


	11. Chapter 11

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 11

By R.J. Harrington,

Laura took a deep breath and extended her hand for the next introduction into the political arena. The DA, former mayors and several high-society types eager to sway policy with their checkbooks swarmed soon-to-be Mayor Bradford and his date.

Laura tried to make eye contact, but more often than not spent time scanning the crowd, studying the wait staff and taking inventory of possible hideouts for anyone wanting to attack.

She was joined by two state troopers flanking Brock as he meandered through the crowd toward their table at the front of the room. More than 800 people packed the Veranda Ballroom, which made it difficult to track anyone more than a few seconds; and she still hadn't found Remington.

They reached the candle-laden tables near the stage and checked the card markers for reserved seats. Once seated, Laura's view of the room worsened as did her anxiety.

She knew the room was filled with undercover agents and troopers, but not all of them knew of the plot. She would be the closest to him. She checked her watch – 7:50.

If Wellston's note was correct, they had 17 minutes.

"We'd better head to the stage."

Brock slid Laura's chair from the table and led her up the stairs. They took their spots next to event sponsors and the head of the state party, who would do the introductions. Television cameras were propped on blue risers on either side of the room with other print and broadcast media stationed near the back in a roped area. The local public television station chose to broadcast Brock's speech live after the publicity surrounding Wellston's death. She knew Vekmer would be watching. If Laura was able to thwart their assassination attempt, the FBI would have to move fast to save Mildred.

"Good evening everyone. Now, if you will all take your seats, we'll get started."

Laura squeezed Brock's hand.

"Are you OK?"

"Just a little nervous."

"Don't worry. This is old hat by now. They all love me."

_If you only knew how wrong you were. _

Laura grinned slightly and released his hand.

"…..a native of Encino and LA's next mayor, Brock Bradford!"

The room erupted in whistles and applause as Brock approached the podium, raising his hand in appreciation. Laura checked her watch – 8:04.

She finally spotted Remington in the front row near the corner of the stage. She watched him, expecting at least mouthed instructions or a hint, but nothing.

8:05

"Los Angeles deserves more than partisan bickering and politics as usual. The state and its families deserve a government that is working to make their lives better, and I plan to do everything I can to …" Brock went on, oblivious to the panic that now gripped Laura.

She desperately searched the room's edges for anyone getting into position or retrieving a weapon.

8:06:45

She glanced once again at Remington, who frantically started pointing to the wall near a curtain at the edge of the large glass doors that led to the ballroom's patio.

The barrel of a gun poked around its edge and pointed at the stage.

"Strengthening education, reducing crime and cutting government waste will continue…."

"Get down!!" Laura yelled as she dove to push him out of the way as the gun fired. The crowd screamed and pushed for the exits as officers flushed out the gunman. As the assassin rounded the edge of the stage, Remington leaped and pulled him to the ground. He looked back to see Laura and Brock land on the edge of the stage and tumble onto the floor.

As Laura pulled herself off, she noticed the blood. Remington rushed to her. "It's not me." Still kneeling, Laura looked at Brock. His eyes were closed, but he was still alive, grunting in pain.

"Get back! Everyone get back!" Agents and emergency workers pushed away the crowd, including Laura and Remington. "Is he alright? Is he alright?"

Remington held Laura as they watched troopers and the EMTs load Brock onto a stretcher and quickly whisk him through the side entrance into an ambulance.

"You saved his life Miss Holt."

Laura turned to find Agent Hersley.

"It wasn't just me, Hersley, Mr. Steele spotted the gunman."

Hersley looked puzzled until Remington began to remove his disguise.

"Ah, very clever Miss Holt. I should have known you would disobey my request for Mr. Steele not to be involved."

"Enough of the pleasantries, Hersley," Remington chimed. "Do your men have Mildred?"

"Yeah Steele, she's safe, and Vekmer is on his way for questioning by the CIA. Turns out you can't trust a convicted felon. The group selling secrets at Anritsu offered him a better deal than we could and he took it. We moved in as soon as the gun fired. You took quite a risk Miss Holt. If you had acted even a few seconds earlier, we might not have been able to get to the hostage in time."

"Can we go now Hersley?" Laura said with disdain.

"Sure. We'll need to talk to both of you later for our report."

"You know where to find us."

Remington walked Laura to the limo. They reclined in the back seat as Fred drove to the San Francisco FBI office to meet the agents delivering Mildred.

After a few quiet moments, Laura turned to Remington, who still wore remnants of the glue and prosthetics that made up his disguise.

"Thanks."

"What for?" Remington said with a smile.

"For being there. For being you."

"It's nothing that Dashing Dave can't handle….Dollface."

He put his arm around Laura and she leaned into his shoulder, feeling at peace and protected for the first time in weeks.

********************

After hearing Mildred's tale of captivity on the second floor of a San Francisco row house, the trio headed to the SF General Hospital Trauma Center to drop Laura at the ER. She decided to stay in San Francisco for at least another day to check on Brock's condition. Remington and Mildred would return to Los Angeles in the limo. Mildred certainly didn't need to be alone.

Fred pulled into the circle drive and parked. He opened the limo door, expecting only Laura to exit, but she was quickly followed by Mr. Steele.

"Laura, wait. … Circle around the block Fred."

The two ducked into a sunlit atrium surrounded by tropical flowers blossoming in orange sprays and creeping vines of English ivy.

"Laura," Remington started, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"You were brilliant out there today."

"As were you Mr. Steele."

She continued. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

"Yes … no … I don't like this arrangement, Laura. I certainly have no hold on your life, but I am having a blasted time watching you …" he pointed toward the hospital rooms, then stared at the floor, running his hand over his hair.

"We agreed not to mix business with pleasure Mr. Steele."

"You could have been killed up there, Laura, and all because of him. And, you're going to stand here and tell me he means more to you than …"

"More to me than what?"

"Nothing. You go ahead. Mildred and I will be waiting for you when you return."

"Wait a minute. You are the one who feels cornered by commitment; never telling me how you feel."

"Me, commitment? Really, Laura, I'm not the one who put this relationship on hold."

"I didn't have a choice."

"We all have a choice, Laura. You choose not to make one."

"You want me to make a choice?"

"Something would be nice."

"Fine, I choose to stay here."

Remington could do nothing but stare in her eyes, waiting for her lips to move, retracting her statement. But, he found silence. She struggled to hold back tears, instead giving a hardened front meant to stop the conversation.

"Well, that settles it then. … I'll see you in the office tomorrow."

Remington turned to leave the room. As he stepped through the doorway, Laura spoke in a faint voice.

"No. You won't."

Remington stopped and put his hand on the door frame without turning around. He paused a few seconds without a word and continued through the front door and into the limo. Laura watched the car drive away and wiped the lone tear that glistened on her cheek. She headed upstairs and walked to the room at the end of the hallway.

"We need to talk."

To Be Continued


	12. Chapter 12

Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 12

By R.J. Harrington,

Remington reviewed the instructions with Bernard and wrote the telephone numbers to the condo and the car phone on a notepad. Without hesitation, Bernard agreed to stay with Aunt Mildred for a few days, more for her peace of mind than for protection.

Remington hugged Mildred.

"You ring me if you need me, no matter the hour."

"Right, boss, thanks…for everything."

"Take care of her Bernard," Remington hollered as he strolled out the back door and into the limo.

"Home, Fred."

Remington slouched onto his hand against the door and stared through the window as they headed for Rossmore. Tiny droplets of rain stuck to glass, collecting and streaming down the pane like tears.

The sprinkles turned to a downpour by the time the limo reached the condominiums. Remington shoved the door and rushed under the canopy that covered the walkway to the building entrance. He brushed water from his trousers and headed for the fifth floor.

He threw his keys onto the credenza and walked to the bedroom to change from his damp and blood-stained clothes. Once in his more comfortable jeans and sweatshirt, he rubbed a towel across his hair and walked to the living room, sitting on the edge of a chair to watch the rain.

His thoughts were with Laura. He couldn't stop thinking about her. He flipped on the TV to search for an old movie as a distraction, but found only _An Affair to Remember_. While not his usual preference for an old movie, it _was_ the end of the picture. The climactic scene was too captivating to click the remote.

Deborah Kerr sat quietly in her chair, a blanket covering her crippled legs, as Cary Grant walked to her bedroom. There in the mirror he sees the painting he drew, the painting his shop sold to a woman in a wheelchair. Realizing why she had never met him as she promised so many years ago, he returns to face her. She realizes he knows. He whisks her into his arms and tears stream down her face. Love reunited.

It's a touching picture for most viewers, but all Remington could think was _what a waste_. Years of joy and happiness lost because she couldn't tell him the truth.

"No slight to you Nikkie, ol' chap, but I think I'll try a different tact."

Remington grabbed his coat and headed for the lobby to call Fred. He slid the overcoat onto his shoulders. As he walked outside, he peeked under the canopy to check the weather and frowned at the downpour.

He shivered and pulled his lapels together for warmth, then looked up. He couldn't believe it.

Across the circle drive stood a vision. It was Laura. She was soaked. Her hair was wavy and pushed back from her face; her spring sweater and petal pink shirt clung to her body and she held a folded umbrella at her side. She crossed the driveway and stood before him.

"Forgot to open our umbrella, did we?" Remington said with an impish grin.

"Yes." Laura smiled.

They stood in silence for a few moments, each staring at the other. Reminded of why he was standing in the rain in the first place, Remington reached for Laura's face and leaned to kiss her. The kiss was sweetened by the rain's dampness and the sureness that not all was lost. Their lips parted, but they stayed close.

"I thought you were going to stay in San Francisco?"

"I was, but the reason no longer exists."

"Oh."

"Besides we have a new client, and I couldn't pass up a free trip to the Mediterranean." Laura said as the pair turned to walk inside with their arms wrapped around the other's waist.

"The Mediterranean, eh?"

"Sundrenched days and moonlit nights."

"Sounds irresistible."

Remington smiled and kissed the side of Laura's forehead as they strolled into the lobby and up to the condo where chilled champagne was waiting.

The End


End file.
